My Back To A Closing Door
by etherealloveliness
Summary: No. She was not running away from home. She was running away from herself. One-shot.


A/N: This is what I wrote when I _should_ have been working on _False Sunrise_. Oh well. It'll be done by this week. Sorry for the wait.

This is dedicated to my friend Katie. It was inspired by the song Lights On (David Cook). It's my new obsession I discovered today.

_Try to leave a light on when I'm gone_

_Something I rely on to get home_

_One I can feel at night, a naked light_

_A fire to keep me warm._

Light On, David Cook

Bree angrily grabbed her duffel bag out of the depths of her closet. Tears swam in her vision. "I'll show them," she muttered thickly. Setting it on her sloppy bed, she started reaching for the nearest clothes, keep a mental checklist. _Shirt, shirt, shirt, jeans, shorts, jeans, sneakers, jacket..._

Why did her parents not trust her? As a little girl, she had gotten the best grades, been popular (and she still was), and been responsible. Then, because she had suddenly hooked up with the cutest guy in her grade, Bree's parents had shortened her curfew and kept the strictest rules that were impossible to break.

So she was running away.

What her mother had said in there...it made her want to do something rash and spontaneous. Something that wouldn't make them forget her. Screw the good girl reputation—she would hook up with _all _the boys in her grade simply to get back at them.

She knew it was uncalled for. She knew it wasn't her that was making these decisions. But she knew that she wanted to act on the impulse.

Bree blindly grasped for a writing utensil, accidentally knocking over the pencil cup on her desk as she grabbed a stubby pencil. She tore off a piece of lined paper from her Geometry notebook. In bold words, she plainly scribbled:

_Mom and Dad,_

_I'm running away. _(Bree felt like she was five again). _If you don't trust me, that's fine with yours truly. Because I've decided to get out of your hair. I'm obviously not worth the while. I thank you for the times that you did have patience with me, but back in the kitchen, you obviously did not show it. I'll have you know I don't regret this. Bye._

_Love,_

_Bree_

Now where would they find it? Ah. She flung aside the pencil and stomped through the growing pile of clothes on her floor. Lucy, her dog, came bounding up to her as she trudged over to her dresser—the place where her parents always looked through for all of her personal things like her diary she had kept since she was ten, and any other items, such as condoms. Although she didn't have any, her parents obviously didn't have enough trust in her to have at least a little faith in her.

Bree zipped up the duffel bag, and, as she was walking to her bedroom door, she saw the closet in the corner of her eye. That was what scared her the most: the thoughts she had been having recently concerning death. Everywhere she would see herself and loved ones dead, usually in the most random places. Occasionally even in the _cafeteria_. She wasn't that upset—dear God, no—but ever since one of her close friends had committed the sinful act, she wasn't sure about life and death. Was there a heavenly realm where God guarded his departed?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Shush, girl," she whispered to Lucy, who continued yapping. Bree didn't need her parents to find out about her plan. They could find the note if they caught her and that would lead into a whole new reprimanding. "See? This is why we can't trust you, Bree," they would say. She could hear their sneering voices in her head.

Bree calmly glided out of the room.

In the living room, she could hear the television on, voices buzzing animatedly. Good. That gave her extra time. They would think she was sulking in her room. She wondered if they even cared enough to check up on her. Bree felt a strong sense of doubt. They wouldn't do something like that. That was too uncharacteristic of them. The epiphany made her sad.

She gently eased the front door open, frightened that they would hear her. When it gave her no trouble, she sighed quietly in relief.

As soon as she was in the clear, she ran like the wind: down the steps and into the almost-vacant city sidewalk she went, brushing past people walking their dogs, past children playing a game of kickball in the street, past the elderly couples on an evening excursion.

It was cold with the wind nipping at her back. Her lungs took in all the cold air. It burned her throat and she was soon gasping for fresh oxygen, yet she didn't stop. Bree lost track of time eventually, and the stars started to come out when she stopped jogging, finally out of breath. She leaned against the cool brick wall of a building. She would sleep in the alley with the homeless tonight. She shuddered at the thought of getting raped and killed, but she was determined. Bree had a reputation not only for being the perfect child, but for being so stubborn nothing could stop her.

She felt her eyelids drooping but was jolted awake when she sensed something moving behind her. "Watch and learn, Riley," said a smooth, melodic voice from behind Bree. Her head whipped around as she tried to locate the source. Her heart pounded hard in her chest. The night sky was pitch black and she couldn't see anything.

A cold dew formed on her forehead. "I-I'm not afraid, whoever is out there," she warned feebly in an unconvincing tone. The stutter didn't help. "I'm warning you," Bree repeated.

A tinkling laugh was the only response. "How very endearing. Well, she _is_ useful. Young. Strong. And...willing to put up a fight, it seems." The vision of being raped came back into her mind. Protecting herself became her only instinct as she dumbly swiped around. A low hiss of pain escaped her clenched teeth as she felt her bone crack. At least she had hit something. The fact, however, that what she had hit was so cold and inhuman sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could react, a pair of glowing red eyes were in front of her. Automatically, she knew this was the end.

So was there a life after death?

She didn't know.

A/N: I hope you liked it. 'Cause I did! It was different but it's my usual angst-filled stuff.

**Review!**


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